Black Dress, Soft Mattress
by Blackjack Aces
Summary: "There are a millions reasons why we won't work out." "I know," Deuce shrugged. "But I only care about the one reason why we will." Cleo/Deuce Future Fic Warning: Not for the faint hearted
1. Dead Girls Don't Cry

Black Dress, Soft Mattress

Disclaimer: Monster High is the property of Mattel co. and I am in no way affiliated. No profit was made from this story.

Author's note: I've taken over writing "Les Feuilles Mortes". There's been a few obvious changes here and there, but I'll, more or less, follow the time line Freak gave me.

Edit: Well, damn. And here I thought I did such a good job editing. A few errors corrected.

Edit edit: Also forgot to credit the title. This chapter is named after the song 'Dead Girls Don't Cry' by Nekromantix. Not a bad song, but it is a little stalker-esque.

Chapter one: Dead Girls Don't Cry

Princess Setepenre politely excused herself and strolled as calm as she could to the backdoor. It was important she didn't make scene or attract attention.

The cold air hit her the instant she opened the door. She took a deep breath to breathe in the city and then promptly stuck her head in a nearby trash can to very pleasantly retch.

There was something very honest about vomit. Not that she was bulimic or anything. No, not by long shot. That would ruin her perfect teeth. She just found it refreshing. It was like she could spit everything out and flush it all away.

She froze as a cold hand laid her bare back. "You okay?" Panic seized her. She hadn't even heard the door open. This would not look good. Princess vomiting her guts out in a back alley. She tried to calm down and think. He sounded like a worker. She could probably just bribe him or something. Maybe he wouldn't know who she was and she could just back off of there.

Setepenre pretended to brush back her hair to shield her face. Her hand blocked his face, but she could see his off the rack dress shoes and slacks with dirty white apron tied around his waist. "Simply peachy." She started talking quickly. "Just a little sick is all. Probably a bad batch of..." She trailed off as he tilted his head into her line of vision. She let her hand fall from her face and saw his eyebrows raise in recognition.

"Cleo." Deuce ran a hand through his snakes; a gesture that made her heart pound. Cleo swallowed down a knot that suddenly tied itself in her throat. "Man, it's been forever. How've you been?"

"I'm... all right." She answered, not taking her eyes off him, like he would disappear the second she did. He reached into the pockets of his uniform and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a blighter. He tilted the box toward her, offering her one. She shook her head. "So..." She rocked back and forth on her heels. "You work here, huh? That's... nice?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. 's all right, I guess." Deuce leaned back on the door. He placed the cigarette in his mouth, but instead of lighting it, he fiddled with the blighter in his hand. "Heard you just got married."

She tried to pull her lips into a well practiced smile, but they refused to make anything other than a tight grimace. "I would rather talk about anything else."

"Really? Why?" He pressed. "Don't like the guy?" It might have just been her imagination, but he sounded excited.

"I... don't know how to answer that." She replied honestly. "I should get back to the party."

Deuce watched her reach for the door with a frown before he called out, "Wait!" He pulled out his order pad and scribbled something down. "Here." She looked at the numbers hastily written across the tiny paper. "In case you wanna talk or something."

The corner of her mouth quirked in what might have the start of a genuine smile.

* * *

><p>Setepenre twisted her cell around in her hands. She had dialed and redialed his number for the past hour. Each time she chickened out before she could hit 'send'. Is it too soon, she thought. They had just talked that night. What if he was asleep and she woke him up?<p>

This was foolish. Princess Setepenre, media darling and budding starlet, completely terrified out of her mind to call some guy. She dialed his number again, riding her ego long enough to hit 'send' this time. All confidence and bravado dissipated after the first ring. Shit, it was really late and he just got off work. What if he didn't feel like talking?

"Yeah?" The sound of his voice broke through some of her insecurities.

"Hey, it's... uh, Cleo." She said, flinching at the sound of her own voice. "Would you like to-" She hesitated. This was so stupid. "meet up tomorrow?" She felt like an idiot. She shouldn't have called so soon. He's going to think she's desperate or easy or-

"Sure. What time?" As they discussed the details, a heavy weight lifted off her chest. "All right. Cool. I'll see you, then." She smiled down at the phone she held in her trembling hands. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

She glanced at the clock - 12:56. It would be hours before Fakir came home and even then, he would most likely be too "preoccupied" to disturb her.

Cleo slipped out of bed and dashed over to a trunk on the other side of the room. Inside it were her all fearbooks from middle school to high school, her cap and gown from graduation, a photo album full of pictures of the old gang, and her most prized possession. She pulled out Deuce's Letterman jacket and held it up. He had given it to her the week they became officially "exclusive". She hugged close to her body. It had lost his scent a long time ago, but it still made her feel close to him.

Cleo let her robes fall to the ground and slipped the jacket on. The feel of its soft lining against her bare skin made her shiver and she pulled it tighter around her body until it practically engulfed her.

She settled back into her sarcophagus, making herself nice and comfortable. She ran her fingers over the soft leather, feeling her breasts through the supple material. She moaned and thought of times that seemed so long ago.

It was the final down of the last game this season. The others fearleaders had already hit the showers, but she lingered behind on the sidelines. Deuce walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Enjoying the game?" She gave non-committal shrug.

His hands trailed up her body to cup her breast and he started stroking her through the thin material of her uniform. She let out a quiet moan and leaned into him. He slid a hand under her skirt and gently massaged her tiny clit. They were surrounded by hundreds of monsters and ghouls, but they all too busy watching the game to notice them.

Over the roar of the crowd, he whispered in her ear. She couldn't remember what he said, but the sound of his voice and his breath against her ear sent a tickle down to her core. The next she knew, the game was over and they were under bleachers.

He pulled her on top of him and she moved against his erection. The friction from rough denim burned but she didn't want to stop. He unzipped his jeans and wiggled halfway out of them. It was quickly discovered that she doesn't self lubricate and it made sex more than a little uncomfortable. He tore through her; it was excruciating, like being stabbed. She might have cried if she could form tears. He asked if she wanted to stop. She dug in her feet and kept going.

His pre-cum slowly filled her, lessening the pain. She let out a sigh of relief and gave her hips a test wiggle. From in between her legs, she felt his body stiffen, then collapse on the grass.

Deuce reached up and touched her glowing face. "Love you."

Setepenre opened her eyes to sound of quiet giggling and shushing. She groaned in disgust and shut her sarcophagus to block out the noise. Moment ruined.

* * *

><p>Setepenre tore through her entire closet of clothing, tried on outfit after outfit; nothing was just right. She sat back on the bench in her closet. She was probably over thinking this. It shouldn't be this hard to get dressed for a lunch date. Setepenre closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts. "If this was just regular luncheon with nobody important, what would I wear?" She thought aloud.<p>

"What luncheon?" Setepenre opened her eyes to see her husband, Fakir leaning against the door frame. His shirt was opened, leaving the love bites and trails of lipstick all over his chest in plain view. He made no attempt to hide his affairs. Some times, she wondered if there was something wrong with how little it bothered her. "My beautiful wife isn't holding out on me, is she?" He wrapped his arms her shoulders. The overbearing smell of his cologne mixed with the cheap perfume of his partner last night made her gag and shove him away.

"I'm just having lunch with an old friend."

He eyed her, trying to figure if she was lying or not. Fakir smiled. "All right, then." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You have a scary good time. You deserve it."

Once he was gone, she made her to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Deuce raised an eyebrow; his gaze lingered on her curly blonde wig. "Nice disguise."<p>

"Shut up." She brushed down her bangs, trying to obscure her face. "It's not like I can have anyone recognizing me."

"I understand." He flipped her hair in her face. "I'd be embarrassed to be seen with me, too."

Furiously wiping the hair from her eyes, she protested, "I'd never-"

"I know." Deuce interrupted. He cupped her face, making her look up at him. "I'm just giving you a hard time." He brushed her bangs aside. For a moment, it looked like he was going to kiss her. "Relax." He pulled away. "Come on. I know place where we can talk." He took her hand and lead her out of the park

Cleo looked down at their intertwined hands; his fingers were laced with hers.

Author's note: Oh, okay, how'd I do? Pass or fail?

Chapter Two Preview: The Contract

"What?"

"Come be my chef." She held on tight to his wrist. "I'm opening a penthouse downtown. I'll need a live-in chef." He didn't look sold. "Pays really well." Cleo added softer. She was moments away from dropping to her knees and begging him to stay.

"Your husband might not like your ex boyfriend living with you." He said, finally.

"Fuck him. I don't care what he does or does not like. And neither should you. I want you to; that's all you should care about."

He stared at her; his face was unreadable from behind those black shades. She wished she knew what he was thinking. "What are the health benefits?" He asked with a grin.


	2. Folie a Deux

Black Dress, Soft Mattress

Author's Note: So I wrote this huge section that at the last minute I took off, because I thought it fit better on the next chapter. Which leads me to my question. Which is better: shorter chapter and faster updates or longer and slower updates? Would really help me figure a good pacing.

This chapter is named after a song of the same title by Head Phones President.

Chapter Two: Folie a Deux

Setepenre glanced around the tiny cafe. It was packed with monsters, but none of them seemed to be paying any attention to them. She took a deep breath and let her body relax.

Their waitress was small ghoul dressed in the standard nice and neat white blouse and black slacks. She had massive red hair, straining against the pitiful little ribbon she tied it with and spoke with a faint eastern accent. When she leaned over to hand them their menus, a tiny glimmer caught Cleo's eye. A charm was peeking out from her blouse.

"I like your necklace. Where did you get it?"

Their waitress blushed and muttered incoherently. She scurried off with her hand covering the odd little charm around her neck. Cleo tilted her head. It looked a little like a padlock.

"When you said this place was discreet, you weren't kidding. Can't even ask an innocent question." She grumbled and crossed her arms.

Deuce raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't want a 'necklace' like that, anyway." She shot him an odd look. "So," he flicked his menu open. "What brings you back into town?"

"Hmm..." Cleo leaned back in her chair. "Well, Amun had a tower built downtown for my deathday." She wrinkled her nose. "But he didn't get any of the proper forms filled out. It's not even zoned, yet." She rolled her eyes. "You know how my brother is. He never finishes anything. So, I've got this thirteen story building I can't do anything with until I get all the proper paperwork done." Cleo huffed.

'Mm hm." He nodded. "And you've been so busy with all that, you haven't had the time to so much as pick up the phone?"

"I-I..." She stammered; her face turned a healthy shade of red. He flashed her an easy grin to show he wasn't serious. Cleo relaxed, but a knot of guilt still twisted in her stomach. _With how things ended, I wasn't sure I should. _She smirked. "Hey, I called you yesterday, didn't I?"

Deuce shook his head, chuckling. "So what you going to do with thirteen stories of gold plated re-enforced steel?"

"Well, I was thinking about converting them into penthouses and- Wait!" She narrowed her eyes. "How did you know it was gold plated?" Before he could answer, she added, "Are you stalking me?"

Once again, he shook his head and chuckled. He pointed to the newspaper rack beside him with the headline: "Thirteen Story Gold Plated Tower: How Far is too Far?" He leaned on the palm of his hand. "Plus, it's on 'Amarna Boulevard'. Not that hard to figure out."

Just as she was about to reply, their waitress returned with tray of water. "Sorry that took so long. Are you ready to order?"

"Ah..." She hadn't even looked at the menu, yet. Cleo looked down at her untouched menu. It had an odd design embossed on it. "Could we-"

"A sinnamon roll and two Melyas," Deuce muttered to her.

Cleo jerked her head toward him. "What?"

The waitress furrowed her brow. "Are you ready to order?" She repeated, but this time slower and more enunciated.

"A sinnamon roll and two Melyas." Deuce whispered again.

Cleo frowned at him, wondering why he wouldn't just place the order himself. "Two Melyas and a sinnamon roll, if you would." She flashed a pleasant smile at the waitress.

The waitress rapidly scribbled down their order. "All right. I'll be back in just moment with your orders." As she left, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Cleo recognized the glint in her eyes and sighed.

_Yes, well. Deuce is quite attractive_, she thought wistfully. She felt a nostalgic pang of possessiveness and frowned. He wasn't hers anymore. She swished her straw around in the water.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Cleo looked up and threw him a tight smile. "Remember when we were in school and I had to _constantly_ beat ghouls off you?"

"Pfft. You say that like other ghouls were literally flinging themselves at me."

"They practically were! You're just oblivious to it." Cleo argued, pointing at him accusingly. "Another ghoul could have jumped out of your locker completely naked and I doubt you'd notice."

He smiled. "That's 'cuz you and I were together. It's easy to get distracted around you."

"Careful, Deuce." She swirled her water around. "It's almost like you're flirting with me."

"Heh, maybe I am." He laugh softly and leaned forward. "Maybe I'm trying to seduce you."

"Tsk. Fresh." She pretended to scold him and punched his arm. They both forced out some laughter that tapered off into awkward chuckles until it was quiet.

Setepenre looked down at the faux leather menu in her hands. She traced the engraving on the cover. Her fingers went around the circle, over the wavy lines that divided it, and poked the three dots. "That waitress is pretty cute." She remarked. It felt as if there was weight in the pit of her stomach.

"Huh? Oh." Deuce glanced over his shoulder. "I guess."

"You seeing anyone?" The weight got heavier.

Already knowing where she was going with this, he pleaded. "Cleo, please don't try and fix me up with the waitress."

"Why not?"

He tilted his head and she knew he was rolling his eyes. "We are _so_ not each others types."

"Whatever." She huffed into her straw, making a barrage of bubbles that popped as soon as they were formed. She felt oddly lighter. "Why did you have me order only one roll?"

"It's too big for one monster." He said simply.

* * *

><p>As they left, Cleo slipped her hands into her jacket pockets. "Melya is scary tasty. What's in it?" As Deuce explained the specific ingredients and methods used during the brewing, she looked down at the receipt in her hand and giggled.<p>

Deuce raised an eyebrow. "What?" He asked.

Cleo unfurled the tiny piece of paper and held it up so he could see the phone scribbled on with a very cutesy 'Call me!'. "Not each others type, my royal butt." She looked down the tiny paper. Her eyes stung like she was about to cry, but she had a weird, fanatic smile on her face. "You so have to call her."

"Cleo." He said, slowly. "That wasn't for me."

"Hm?" Once what he implied had sunk in, a most devious grin spread across her face. "Oh. Well, maybe I should I take her up on her offer." She teased. "Could use the recreation." She watched out of the corner of her eye for his reaction.

Deuce shook his head. "Pfft. Whatever."

"You're just jealous you didn't get her number," she continued to gloat, still flaunting the number.

"I already told you." He whipped around and stared her right in the eye. Even though he was wearing glasses, it still felt like she had been frozen. "She's not my type."

"Deuce." He stepped toward her. She took a step back. Her heart was pounding so hard, it could have broken the special jar she kept it in.

"Here we are." Deuce moved back and looked across the street at her temporary residence. "I probably shouldn't walk you to the door." He brushed her bangs aside. "Monsters might get the wrong idea." He kissed her forehead. "Well, this was fun. Should do it again some time. Maybe call up the old gang; make a reunion out of it." He realized he was babbling and finished off with a stiff, "See you around, Cleo."

Without thinking, the words just came running out of her mouth. "Come be my chef."

"What?"

"Come be my chef." She repeated, holding on tight to his wrist. "My penthouse opens in a couple of days. I'll need a live-in cook." He didn't look sold. "Pays really well." Cleo added softer. She was moments away from dropping to her knees and begging him to stay.

"Your husband might not like your ex boyfriend living with you." He said, finally.

"Fuck him. I don't care what he does or does not like. And neither should you. I want you to; that's all you should care about."

He stared at her; his face was unreadable from behind those black shades. She longed to know what he was thinking. "What are the health benefits?" He asked with a grin.

* * *

><p>Author's note: I have a tendency to write too many sentences fragments (which usually end up run on sentences in an effort to make them less incorrect). And while I'm thinking about that, all I can hear in my head is "Sentence Fragments! Just phrases!" from MST3K: Hobgoblins.<p>

Anyhow, tell me what you think. I like hearing your thoughts (no pun intended).

Chapter three preview: If You Hear My Thoughts

"Over here is where gyms for the residents are, which you are under no circumstances to use. Now, if you will follow me." A portly hunchback lead Deuce and several other new employees through the catacombs of the building, explaining at length where they could go; where they couldn't; what to do; what not to do; and above all else, not to bother the residents and stay out of sight as much as possible.

"And here is where most of you will be working. Maintaining the hallways, emptying the trash." The list went on and on.

"Um..." Deuce raised his hand. "I'm suppose to be working on the top floor."

The hunchback sputtered; his face gradually turned red as his outrage built. "Impossible. The top floor is reserved only the Mistress and her servants."

As if on cue, the elevator slid open and out came Cleo. "Wembley! I'm looking for my new chef. Have you seen- Deuce!" She ran past the shocked hunchback to him. She moved like she was about to hug him, but thought better of it. "There you are. What you doing down here? This is for lower level staff."

"Got a little turned around at the entrance." He left out the part about the doorman refusing to listen to him and having him sent here instead. No need to subject him to her wrath. It was an honest mistake.

"Well, come on. I need you upstairs. We completely behind because of you." She pushed him all the way to the elevator. Maybe he should have threw the doorman under the bus.


	3. If You Hear My Thoughts

Black Dress, Soft Mattress

**Warning** The following chapter contains pro-BDSM themes. If the notion or practice of Female Domination offends you, I advise you read no further. I did say this wasn't for the faint of heart.

Author's note: I'm just gonna let the chapter speak for itself.

Chapter title comes from a line in the song "Robby's World" by World Famous (really creepy song, BTW). I'm thinking about composing a playlist of these songs.

Chapter 3: If You Hear My Thoughts

A group of various monsters all dressed in matching gold and blue uniforms clustered around a heavy hunchback. In contrast to the uniforms they had given, he wore a black suit that established him as "upper management". The hunchback clasped his hands together and introduced himself. "Greetings. I'm the majordomo for this building and your direct superior. You all simply need to know me as Mister Wembley."

"Now, if you will follow me. I shall you lead you to your work station and give you a brief tour of the building. We will also go over the staff etiquette rules and guideline."

"Over here is where gyms for the residents are. Those of you in the cleaning department will have the joint responsibility of keeping the equipment free of sweat and other bodily fluids. The weights must be polished and the treadmill cleaned with a special pine cleanser. These will outline in greater detail in your handbooks." A pinch of pity went out to the cleaning department from Deuce.

"And under no circumstances are any employees to use the gym or any of its facilities."

The tour went on like that. Wembley would show them a room, tell them their duties for each assignment. Then, he would go on and on about their restrictions: where they could go, where they couldn't go, what to do, what not to do, and, the most important rule of all, do not bother the guests and stay out of sight as much as possible.

Finally, he lead them to large hexagon room with several doors. "And here is where most of you will be working. Maintaining the hallways, emptying the trash."

Deuce looked around at the noticeably smaller group. "Um..." He raised his hand. "I believe I'm suppose to be working on the top floor."

Wembley sputtered; his face gradually turned red as his outrage built. "Impossible. The top floor is reserved only the Mistress and her servants."

Before he could explain the situation, the elevator slid open and, almost as if on cue, out came Cleo. "Wembley! I'm looking for my new chef. Have you seen- Deuce!" She ran past the shocked hunchback to him. She moved like she was about to hug him, but thought better of it. "There you are. What you doing down here? This is for lower level staff." Everyone left looked up at her, but just as quickly averted their gaze.

"Got a little turned around at the entrance." He left out the part about the doorman refusing to listen to him and having him sent here instead. No need to subject the poor monster to her wrath. It was an honest mistake.

"Well, come on. I need you upstairs. We completely behind because of you." She grabbed his arm and pulled him all the way to the elevator. Maybe he should have threw the doorman under the bus.

"What do you think of my building?" Cleo asked as soon as the doors closed.

"Well," Deuce ran his hand over the gold snake coiling up the walls of the elevator. "Your brother really knows you."

She flashed him a pained smile. "You haven't seen the rest of it."

* * *

><p>A piece of drywall crackled off and fell inches from his face. "Wow." The room's unfinished drywall, concrete floor, and multitude of exposed electrical wires that released the occasional worrisome spark contrasted greatly with the green marble walls and gold plated fixtures he had seen on the tour.<p>

"Yeah. We've really made a lot of progress with this room." She linked her arm in his. "Kitchen's way." Deuce glanced down at her hand resting his bicep and said nothing.

The kitchen was in considerably better shape than the hallway. Save for a few pipes waiting to be connected to a sink and dishwasher, everything was put together and waiting to be tiled and polished. The gray floors and walls were covered with yellow outlines to show where the cabinets and counters would go. It was like an unfinished painting. The only the stove in the corner was finished.

Cleo squeezed his arm. "What do you think?"

"Hm? Well..." Deuce slipped out her grasp and walked around the kitchen in analytical chef mode. He stopped in front of yellow square close to the center of room. "The island is too close these counters. I'd move it back about..." He took three steps across the markings. "This far." The contractor took note of what of he said.

As he walked around the kitchen making more notes, a troll came in with a larger dolly. Deuce wrinkled his nose as the stainless steel counters were wheeled in. "What's wrong?" Cleo asked.

"Nothing." He said. Cleo stared at him until she manged to pressure the truth out of him without saying a word. "Eh, it's not that I don't like it. But, I don't know, don't you think steel is a little _sterile_."

Cleo looked around the kitchen. She had never thought of it before, but it did feel impersonal in here. She nodded and motioned for them start removing the appliances.

A mummy squeezed his way past the trolls and ran up to Cleo with a clipboard. "Ma'am. We need your opinion on bathroom tiles for the two guest rooms."

"All right." Cleo turned back to Deuce. "We can go shopping for kitchen counters tomorrow afternoon." She touched his arm and her lips curled into a smile.

A lake creature in a hard hat walked up with a floor plan of the kitchen in his webbed hands. "Sir?" Deuce winced at being called 'sir'."We need you to look over the blueprints your wife ordered."

Cold pins pricked at Deuce's heart. "Cl-" He caught himself. "Miss Setepenre is my employer, not my wife." He corrected with a strained smile. Saying it out loud left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Oh!" The lake creature turned bright red under his moss. "Sorry, you just act- Sorry." He apologized.

"Don't worry about it." Deuce said as he took the blueprints. He looked over the plans. Everything seemed about right. With a pen, he marked a few corrections here and there. He paused. "What if we put a breakfast nook in this corner here?" He circled an empty corner near the door. The creature nodded and hurried off to take the revised plan to his co-workers.

* * *

><p>When Deuce woke up, he knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant morning. The sun was high. The sky was robin's egg blue. No clouds, not even a hint of fog. "Ugh." He resisted the urge to curl back up and sleep until the bad weather passed. Instead, he forced himself to roll out of bed to get started.<p>

The hallway was looking better. All the fallen drywall had been cleaned. All the exposed wires were plastered behind the wall and out of sight. They had even laid down a lush sea green carpet. He appraised the half tiled wall and wondered it was real sapphires. Knowing Cleo, the answer was 'yes'.

The Kitchen was just as undone as he left yesterday. That made sense. It couldn't be finished until he and Cleo decided on counters. Then, they'd pick out tiles both for the walls and the floor.

Deuce rubbed his sore chest. He had an uncomfortable tightness there since yesterday. It was probably just stress, he reasoned.

To take his mind off the pain, he turned his attention to the boxes stacked up beside the half constructed nook. Each was labeled and neatly pushed back against the wall.

Deuce rummaged through a box labeled 'pots N pans'.

"Who are you?"

In the doorway stood a young man who looked no older than him. His carefully tousled dark hair suggested he spend hours in front of the mirror trying to get that 'just rolled out of bed' look. Deuce recognized him immediately from his pictures in the magazines. Fakir. "Um.. I'm the new chef." He answered. Bitterly, he wondered if the bite marks on his indigo skin were from Cleo.

"Ah, in that case, I'll have sabudana khichdi and two poha rolls." He sneered at the half finished nook with distaste before sitting. "You know what that is, right?"

He chose not to dignify that with a response. "Right away."

The only sound in the room was the quiet sizzle of the skillet as Deuce cooked. He shifted awkwardly. The tension weighted on him like a ton of bricks, whereas Fakir didn't appear to care or notice.

"All this construction is giving me a headache." He stood back up, rubbing his temples even though there was no construction going on at the moment. "Tell the wife I'll be out taking a breather." Fakir left, leaving Deuce with his thoughts.

"What is that?"

"Huh? " Deuce looked up to see Cleo standing where Fakir had been just minutes ago. "Oh." He looked down at chilly peppers and mustard seed he was frying. "Your husband's breakfast. Or, was. He just left." He explained. Her wrinkled nose at the word 'husband' did not go unnoticed.

Cleo scoffed. "Wasting my food? Typical." She eyed the nook, not quite sure what to make of it. She leaned against the table. "We'll be meeting with a designer later this afternoon. Have you put any thought into what type of counter tops you want?"

"I don't know." He scraped the food off into a nearby trashcan. "I guess I'll just see what they have." He set oily pan in the makeshift sink. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm not that hungry in the morning." She stretched. The light caught in her deep blue robes, highlighting how sheer it was. Deuce sucked in his breath. "I usually just have some grapes while I bathe. I only came in here to see what you doing." She undid the front of her robe and shrugged it off onto the floor.

Hidden behind his sunglasses, Deuce turned his eyes up toward the ceiling. "Ah. Okay. What time did you say we were leaving?"

"Our appointment is at one, so be ready to go around then." If he hadn't been preoccupied with his own thoughts, he would have sworn she sounded irritated. The second she was out of the room, he made a mad dash back to his quarters.

* * *

><p>He pulled out a CD case. On the cover was some Norwegian death metal band called "Terrible Pun". There wasn't a CD inside it, but instead a small skeleton key.<p>

Deuce took the tiny key and headed towards the plain dresser that came with the room. He opened the bottom drawer and pushed aside a couple of shirts to reveal a black box. He rocked the box back and forth to wiggle it out of the drawer. Once free, he set it down so carefully it barely made sound as it hit ground. Deuce took the key and opened the box with a tiny 'click'.

He reached inside and pulled a leather collar large enough to fit around a grown monster's neck. He hooked his finger around the D-ring hanging from the front and gave it a solid tug. Out of habit, he glanced back at the door.

It was quiet. Only the morning staff would be open at this hour. Everyone else was still fast asleep.

Reassured no one would disturb him, he opened the box completely.

"Interesting little collection you have there."

Deuce nearly jumped out of his skin. He fumbled with the collar before it clattered to the floor. "Cleo! How did you-"

"It's my building. I have keys to every room." She explained. She surveyed over the box. "Hmm..." She trailed her hand over the neatly aligned assortment of cuffs and toys. "What's this?" Cleo took a teeny metal device with screw out of the box and held it up.

"It's a..." He fidgeted, wondering if he could lie and say it's a clothespin. She's never done laundry before; she might buy it. He looked up at her. "It's a nipple clamp." He answered, honestly.

"Demonstrate." She held it out to him.

Deuce looked down at the thing, somewhat horrified. "On you?"

She giggled. "No. No. On you, silly." She dropped it in his hand. Cleo laughed, shaking her head. "On me..."

A blush tinged his cheeks as he pulled his shirt off over his head. He twisted the screw until it was loose enough to wrap around his nipple. His face was almost completely red when he started tightening the clamp on himself.

Out of the corner his eye, he could Cleo watching him with this innocent, curious expression. But her real feelings were betrayed in her eyes. There was a dark glint to them. She was teasing him and enjoying every minute of his embarrassment. Her eyes darted down to his crotch and back up to him. Her grin was now more openly cruel.

"Oh! I see. You tighten it by turning the little knob." Without warning, she reached out and gave it a quarter turn. Deuce let out a gasp, more out of surprise than from the pain.

"Fascinating." Cleo looked back at the box. She placed her hand on the edge. "What do the rest of these do?"

* * *

><p>Author's note: Finally. Feels like it took me forever to write this. Critiques, comments.<p>

Chapter 4 Preview: I'm the Kinda

"I want to play a game." Cleo declared. She sat across him on the bed.

"What kind of game?"

"Sort of like truth or dare. Minus the dares. You tell me a secret, then I'll tell you one."

"All right." He answered. Not sure where this was going. "Um.." He tried to think of something he hadn't told her. "."

"Back in high school, I once walked in you masturbating." She took a gentle but firm hold of his balls and stroked them with her thumbs. "Seeing the look on you slutty face while you touched yourself made me so hot." She bit his ear. "Do it for me. I want to watch you."


	4. Without Guilt, Inhibitions, or Phoniness

Black Dress, Soft Mattress

Author's Note: Rewrite? What rewrite? It was always like this. Shifty eyes

Disclaimer: Monster High is owned by Mattel. The title of the chapter comes from the song: To Catch a Thief by Lovage. I claim ownership of neither.

Chapter Four: Without Guilt, Inhibitions, or Phoniness

Deuce rubbed salve over the red welts forming on his chest. The cool cream took the edge off of the burning. With his accelerated healing, the marks would be gone by that afternoon.

"Are you all right?" Cleo drew her knees up to her chest. She sat on the edge of bed, watching him carefully. Every so often a hint of guilt would flicker in her eyes. It made him want to pull her into a tight hug and reassure her. But since she was actively trying to avoid touching him, he figured it was probably best if he didn't.

"Nah. I'm good." He screwed the lid to the salve back on. "Had worse."

Deuce flinched when Cleo's eyes darkened. Wrong thing to say. "So, how many other ghouls have you been with?" He opened his mouth to answer. "Wait!" She interrupted. He closed it and waited. "No, I don't want to know." She covered her ears and shut her eyes. "Is it more than five?" She peeked open one eye.

He leaned forward. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes. No. Maaybe..." She dithered back and forth. "I don't know." The look in her eyes pleaded with him for help.

"Being completely honest and candid." He took a deep breath before answering. "I don't know. I stopped counting after awhile." As he expected, Cleo's jaw dropped in utter shock. "Yeah, it's that many. I've been dumped a lot."

Cleo mouthed a silent, "oh." Unsure what else to say, she asked again. "Are you really okay?" She reached out and gently brushed the welts on his chest. He took a sharp intake of air and his snakes hissed.

"Don't." He pulled back, just out of her reach. His cheeks burned red.

She cupped the sides of his face and pulled him close. Her lips brushed his as she whispered. "Come with me upstairs. I want to show you something." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "You should probably get dressed first, though."

* * *

><p>Deuce ran his hands over the rows and rows of the clothes as he past them. It didn't surprise him in the slightest that the inside of her closet was bigger than his last apartment. Though to be fair, his last apartment was barely bigger than a matchbox.<p>

"This is just little collection I've been building over the years." Cleo said as she pushed aside some her clothes. She pressed a little gem in the middle of the wall paneling. The wall come apart like a cupboard to reveal shelves upon shelves of gags, harnesses, dildos, and just about any other kind of toy you could possibly imagine. There were even some he had never seen before; the prospect was both terrifying and exciting.

Deuce left out a low whistle. "We always did have a different idea of what small is." A steel bar collar hanging in the middle caught his eye. Unconsciously, he rubbed his bare neck. The pain in his chest from yesterday returned. Suddenly, it was like he was drowning. Dizziness washed over him and it felt like he couldn't breathe.

Two slender arms wrap around his waist. He looked behind him to see Cleo burying her face into his back. "Be with me."

He covered her trembling hand with his, lacing their fingers together. "I already am."

* * *

><p>"Sorry, sir. We're laying down the carpet through here. You'll have to go another way." A troll in a construction hat blocked Fakir's way down the hall.<p>

He huffed and doubled back to cut through the kitchen.

One week of all this construction and he couldn't stand another minute more. For the unlife of him, he couldn't figure why Setepenre had suddenly decided to move them out of the comfort of her parents' tomb in Egypt to this literal disaster area. It wasn't as if she couldn't simply wait and move in when everything was finished. He kicked a piece of drywall out of his way. He couldn't live this way.

He pulled out his phone as he rounded the corner past Setepenre's room. Of course, she gave herself the largest room. He scrolled through his missed messages, taking note of which ghoulfriends he needed to call back and scheduling upcoming meetings with business associates when a loud muffled groan came out of his wife's room.

Fakir froze. Did he really just hear what he thought heard? He shook his head. Couldn't be. In all the time he and Setepenre had been together, he had never known her to do anything interesting like keep lovers or have affairs. In fact, she hardly ever did anything her parents didn't tell her to do. She was such a bore that way.

He tried to turn the doorknob, only to find it locked. Curious, he pressed his ear up to the door; he could barely make out his wife's low voice. There was another muffled moan, followed shortly by the sound of her giggling. She started whispering something else.

Fakir glanced around. If only he had a cup or something to help amplify it. He tried cupping his hands around his ear.

Setepenre moaned. "Like that, too? I had no idea you were such a whore." Her tone was light and teasing. Her partner moaned. Thoughts of her lithe, little body covered in sweat as she rocked her hips against her lover mercilessly invaded his mind. Fakir shifted uncomfortably. He imagined she kept all her jewelry on and could practically hear it jingling as she wriggled around.

She shushed her partner. "Someone might hear you. Or is that what you want?" It was hard to believe this was coming out of his straight laced little wifey. Maybe he misjudged her. Fakir licked his lips and wondered what else she hid from him.

* * *

><p>Deuce sighed. He felt amazing. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that great. His whole body felt lighter than air. It was like he was floating.<p>

Deuce nuzzled the top of his Cleo's head, taking in the smell of her sweated out perfume. Her warm breath on his skin tickled. Her legs were still straddled around him long after she had drifted off to sleep. He brushed aside her bangs and placed a light kiss on her forehead.

Suddenly, Cleo jerked wake, tearing out his embrace. "We forgot about the designer."

Author's note: Okay, okay. So I rewrote this chapter and am in the middle of rewriting the next. But that's almost finished and I have detailed outlines for each chapter all the way up until the end, so that this won't happen again and hopefully I can get to back to releasing faster updates.


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